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Conclusion

                Today is April 1st. I got out of the hospital this morning. And I have a bottle of pills next to my bed, with a big cup of water. Tonight I am killing the last living part of myself, my body. My mind is dead. I have stopped feeling anything. I lost my dreams with Colin, my image with Nicole, my innocence with Andrew, my self-respect with the principle, my trust with Cami, and my safety with Parker. And I have to leave now. This is my story. Don’t feel bad for me. I’ve moved on. I’ve forgiven everyone as I wrote down their part in my story.

                There’s this idea of what young girls have to be. The idea that young people should have lots of friends and be popular, and want to go out and party. Colin fit that mold. I didn’t. That’s really what killed me: society’s idea that extroverts are better than introverts.

                People like drama. They like talking about scandals and outlandish lives. Nicole’s lies fed on that. That’s what killed me: society’s infatuation with the dramatic, whether it’s true or not.

                Life is full of secrets. Secrets are fun for most people. Except when the secret would help you, and no one shares it. Andrew started the secret, but everyone else kept it for him. That’s what killed me: society’s unwillingness to stick its neck out.

                Schools seem to think that telling girls what to wear to keep boys from acting out is better than stopping boys from acting out. The principle was only acting on that. That’s what killed me: society’s idea that it’s a women’s responsibility to dress to be treated respectfully, not the man’s responsibility to treat her respectfully.

                College is the only respected path for high schoolers. That or the military. At least in my town. Cami couldn’t make it there on her own, and she used me to get her there in order to avoid disgrace. That’s what killed me: society’s idea that there is only one path to success.

                Everyone has a story. And everyone is fighting their own battles. But if no one ever asks about other’s stories, why write them? Parker acted on impulse and no one stopped him. That’s what killed me: society’s “keep it to yourself” attitude about mental illness.

                When I was 14, I told my mother I wasn’t a feminist. Four years later, after three boys, two best friends, and one run in with the school officials, I killed myself.